


Best Laid Plans

by coolbreezemage



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbreezemage/pseuds/coolbreezemage
Summary: A new training exercise pits Dimitri against Claude's tricks… and introduces him to his dreams.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 233





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta [Nenalata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenalata)!

“Eat something, Your Highness,” Ingrid insists. She’s already halfway though her second plate of eggs and chicken. Dimitri has barely touched his, so focused is he on the diagrams spread on the table in front of him. 

“There’s no need to worry, Your Highness,” Ashe assures him around a mouthful of sweet bun. “We spent all of yesterday on tactics. We’re going to do fine.” He’s probably right, but there is no way Dimitri will let it come to pass that the Blue Lions failed an assignment because their House Leader slacked on preparations.

“Seriously, you can chill out a little,” Sylvain says, leaning back in his seat. “It’s just a training exercise.”

“Even so,” Dimitri replies, giving Sylvain a sharper look than he probably deserves, “we owe it to ourselves and to the Professor to perform the best we are able.”

Sylvain shrugs. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean not eating breakfast.”

“I agree with Sylvain,” Dedue says, causing Sylvain to break out in a surprised grin. “You must eat, Your Highness.”

Somewhat sullenly, Dimitri shoves a forkful of tasteless, mushy eggs into his mouth. Sylvain laughs. Felix grumbles and looks away. Dedue’s expression remains unchanged. Guilt stirs in Dimitri’s stomach - he shouldn’t be so ungrateful for the sustenance the monastery provides, nor for the care of his friends. So he keeps eating, letting the others’ cheerful conversation wash over him.

"Hey, Claude!" Annette says from his side of the table. "Are you ready for us to beat you today?"

"Ah, I wouldn't be so sure about that," Claude replies. 

Dimitri glances up, nods polite acknowledgement, and then goes back to the notes. 

“Ooh, are these your plans?” A hand snakes under his nose and snags the papers from the table.

“Claude!” Dimitri exclaims, turning around to stare up at his fellow leader’s grinning face.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to cheat,” Claude laughs, waving the papers in the air without looking at them. “I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

Dimitri decides to ignore him. Protesting would be undignified, and there’s something in his eyes that says he’s not after the diagrams. Any plan Claude’s had to win this competition has probably been weeks in the making. Dimitri’s Lions will not let any dishonorable tactics change the way they approach this challenge.

Annette glares at him, unimpressed. “Give those back, Claude!” At his carefree smirk, she sets down her fork and climbs up onto the bench to try and grab them back, but Claude, laughing, sidesteps her attempt, holding them out of her reach. She leans forward, teetering on the edge...

“Annie!” Mercedes leaps for her just as her footing slips, and the two of them tumble to the floor together with a loud thump.

Dedue leans over and gives them both a hand up; fortunately both get to their feet unharmed. Several of the Black Eagles, two tables away, are staring at them. Dimitri swears he can see Edelgard roll her eyes.

"Uh..." Claude hands the papers, now slightly crumpled, back to Dimitri without protest. He turns to leave, but Mercedes isn’t about to let him slip away. “What do you have to say for yourself, Claude?” 

“What? I wasn’t the one standing on the edge of the-“

She silences him with a look. “Nevertheless, it was unkind, and you ought to apologize.” 

Dimitri watches with satisfaction as Claude wavers under Mercedes’s disapproval. He turns to Annette. “Uh... yeah, I’m sorry about that. Are you all right?”

It’s hard to tell with him, but Dimitri would like to think at least some of the remorse is genuine.

“I’m fine,” Annette says, and giggles. “Thanks, Mercie.”

Mercedes smiles. “Be more careful next time, okay?” 

"Ah, but I never play the same trick twice," Claude retorts before Annette can reply, a cheerful - yet somehow false - smile on his face. He turns and strides back to the Deer table to rejoin his housemates. 

Dimitri watches him go. How can he take it so lightly? If Dimitri had caused such a scene - never mind that he'd never be so childish as that - he'd have burned up with shame without Mercedes even needing to say a single word. 

He envies it, he realizes. And it's yet another thing about Claude that continues to bewilder him. 

He only realizes he's still watching when Claude turns and winks at him from across the hall. 

***

The next few hours are filled with battle preparations: saddling mounts, lacing armor, gathering training weapons, riding out to the “battlefield.” By the time Dimitri sees Claude again, they’re almost ready to start. 

“Hey, Dimitri.” It’s the sound of his name, more than anything else, that draws his attention. 

“What is it?”

Claude rubs the back of his neck. “About this morning, uh, I’m really sorry. That went a bit further than I expected it to.”

Dimitri sighs. Claude might be troublesome, and devious, but he is not cruel or careless. The same cannot be said of Dimitri. He has no talent for trickery, and despite his best attempts to be rid of it, there is a deep well of violence within him which will not submit to be tamed. 

“Consider it forgiven,” he says. "Though I will expect you to be more responsible in future."

"Hey, now that's a tall order, Your Highness. You can't just expect me to-"

"I will," Dimitri interrupts. "I know you are capable of it." 

Claude pauses. “Well. Suppose I can’t say no to that. Listen-”

Before he can continue, Seteth’s voice rolls out across the field. “Students! The exercise begins promptly. Assemble your teams.” 

Most of the terms of this competition are long familiar to all the listening students from numerous mock battles and combat drills. They cannot engage with opponents outside of the marked area. Their weapons have been dusted with chalk to mark contact at a mere touch; any strikes intended to injure will count as a penalty. They're also encouraged to fight with whatever they can get their hands on, as long as they don't draw blood. 

And then, the new rule that had made their planning so much more complicated. 

"In this scenario, defeated opponents will be considered prisoners," Seteth reminds them. "They are to be _ gently _ bound and kept under supervision by a member of the capturing team. If they escape, however, they may rejoin the competition." Hence why they've all been given pieces of fabric along with their practice weapons. 

The Lions have agreed that Ingrid will establish their camp by the small lake to the east of the grounds, because as a flier she can reach it first, and then they will trade off on watch as they bring prisoners back.

“Begin now!” Seteth calls. The combatants scatter, hurrying across the field and into the forest. 

The contest begins auspiciously indeed for the Lions. Dimitri rejoins Mercedes shortly after they enter the forest. Together they manage to evade Dorothea’s magic and capture Linhardt, who looks rather bored with the whole affair and offers only a few mildly sarcastic comments as Mercedes ties his hands and leads him off to their camp. 

But after that there comes a long stretch of time in which Dimitri encounters no enemies or allies at all. He treads a careful path through the scattered trees, hands tight around his lance. 

There’s a sound from somewhere above him; Dimitri tenses just before something shoots past his ear. A puff of yellow chalk dusts the grass at his feet, and in the center of it, an arrow sticks up from the ground.

Dimitri jabs his lance into the tree.

“Ow!” the tree complains. A moment later Claude leaps out of the branches, bow under one arm. “Huh. That's not as easy as some people make it look.” 

Dimitri stabs at him again, smearing his uniform with blue chalk. 

“Yield,” he demands.

Claude raises his hands and pouts theatrically. “Fine, fine, you got me.” He holds out his wrists. “Be gentle, okay?”

Dimitri chooses to ignore the wink that accompanies the words. 

Claude doesn’t take his eyes off of Dimitri’s for a moment as Dimitri pulls a band of cloth from his belt. Dimitri remains tense, wary for any tricks, but Claude is surprisingly obedient. The way he follows Dimitri as he moves is slightly unnerving, but Dimitri pushes that thought aside. At least until Claude says, “What now? Going to take me back to your camp and have your way with me?”

“Claude!” Dimitri scolds, face heating. 

Claude shrugs, as if he hadn’t just suggested something massively inappropriate. “What? I wouldn’t mind.”

Dimitri grabs him by the upper arm and starts leading him towards the Lions' camp. 

After a few steps, Claude twists in his grasp. "Hey, ow? I need that arm, you know."

Dimitri loosens his grip. "I apologize."

Claude laughs; Dimitri refrains from asking what he finds so amusing. He searches the trees for a glimpse of the blue flag. His heart sinks when he sees in its place the banner of the Black Eagles. So Edelgard had also set her sights on the lake as a base, and managed to reach it first. He turns to search the hills. Beside him, Claude fidgets; Dimitri ignores it. 

There. Off in the distance, he catches sight of Ingrid on her pegasus, shepherding a no-doubt-displeased Ferdinand towards a mound on which the Lions banner waves in the breeze.

It's a lengthy walk away, and it's time Dimitri resents losing. Capturing the Deer leader is a great accomplishment, but it also means removing Dimitri from the front lines until he can get him to their camp. 

Claude continues to fidget and squirm as they walk. Dimitri says nothing, unwilling to lead himself into some trap or joke he cannot yet discern.

They're maybe halfway there when Claude wriggles his hips, glances at Dimitri in a way that's almost pleading. 

“What is it?” Dimitri asks finally. 

"Hey, I... how long are we going to be out here again?”

Dimitri checks the angle of the sun. "Perhaps another hour or two. Sooner, if one side claims victory early." Claude winces. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, it's just... uh, look, I _ really _ gotta piss." That makes sense of the fidgeting. Dimitri feels his face heat at the realization.

Claude squirms again, obviously embarrassed. "Please?" he begs.

There are treatises on how prisoners are to be handled. Denying them their basic bodily needs is cruel and inhumane, and Dimitri cannot allow himself to be inhumane, especially not in a simple training exercise that bears no consequence on the lives of those around him. 

"Of course." Dimitri steps around to his side and unties the cloth binding his wrists. 

The next moment, Claude has a belt knife against his throat. Dimitri didn’t even see him draw it. 

"Too kind," Claude murmurs in his ear, making him shiver from the closeness. “Really, you're so _ nice _. Almost makes me feel bad about this." Before Dimitri can insist that he’s nothing of the sort, Claude tilts his head and smiles. "Almost. I’ll take that now.” He pulls the cloth from Dimitri’s fingers and wraps it around his wrists. He smacks Dimitri lightly on the shoulder when he’s done. “Seems like this deer has caught himself a lion.”

Dimitri barely resists grumbling at the ridiculous cliche. He knows Claude has no intentions of actually harming him and he could of course tear himself free from the bonds with no effort at all, but that would be unsporting, and he will not stoop to Claude’s level. Though, he reminds himself bitterly, Claude’s trick was completely within the rules. 

So he lets Claude lead him back through the forest to the Deer camp without protest, humiliation prickling itchy at his neck. 

It is perhaps a small comfort that he is at least not the first of the Lions to be captured. Ashe waves shyly at him from the Deer “prison” when Claude delivers him into Lysithea’s dubious care. Her sharp spells, and once she trades off her post, Hilda's brute strength, make escape an impossible proposition. 

But his new position leaves him little to do for the next hour except watch his House’s plans fall apart. Losing the prime base territory to the Eagles was apparently only the start of their issues, and by the time Seteth’s wyvern roars to mark the end of the contest, it's obvious that the Deer are victorious. 

***

“Tell me again,” Felix says, when they’ve gathered back in the Lions classroom to discuss their loss, “how did Riegan convince you to untie him?”

Dimitri unclenches his hands with effort. “He claimed he needed to, er, relieve himself.”

Sylvain, his feet up on a chair, throws back his head and laughs. “Isn't that, like, the oldest trick in the book?"

Ingrid snorts. She's sitting on a desk sharpening a knife. “Remind me not to put you in charge of potty breaks if we ever capture any real prisoners. Hey, Annette, give me another of those cakes."

“I don’t know,” Annette says, frowning. “I think he did the right thing. What if he’d really needed to go?” She holds out the plate of sweets; Sylvain snatches one, then, glaring, Ingrid leans over his shoulder to take two for herself. 

Mercedes nods. “The professors should clarify the rules next time. We wouldn’t want anyone to be uncomfortable.”

“This is a ridiculous conversation,” Felix complains. "We lost. End of story.” 

"Aw, Felix," Annette says. "It's not that bad. We had fun!" 

"It's not about having fun," Felix snaps. "It's about training for combat. Real soldiers won’t be _ nice_. We shouldn’t be either.”

Dimitri's gut instinct tells him Felix is right, and yet, he can't help but insist, "There are ethical standards one must adhere to, even in combat."

"As if _ you'd _ know anything about that, boar," Felix scoffs. 

"Felix!" Mercedes scolds.

Ingrid stands. "His Highness is right. We must not lose sight of our honor." Her dramatic declaration is spoiled somewhat by the crumbs falling from her mouth, but nobody seems to mind.

"I agree!" Ashe adds around a bite of cake. Dimitri silently thanks Dedue for remaining quiet. 

Annette puts her hands on her hips and glares at Felix, even as Dimitri wishes she wouldn't. “His Highness hasn't done anything wrong.”

Backing Felix into a corner is never a good idea. “Soft-hearted cowards,” he snarls. “How long is it going to take you to realize war isn't like that?” 

“Well, we're not in a-” Ingrid objects. 

“Enough,” Dimitri declares. Felix and Ingrid continue to glare at each other. “We must learn from the outcome today and improve our strategy. Arguing like children will not help.”

Annette sighs and kicks her feet. “I’m tired of talking about the exercise. Why don't we talk about all the yummy things that'll be at the party tonight?”

“The party!” Ashe exclaims. “Dedue and I were going to help out with the preparations.” 

“We should be on our way,” Dedue agrees. Ashe hops down from the desk and offers a cheery wave as he heads out the door, Dedue following calmly behind. 

With two of their number missing, there's no point in continuing their analysis of the morning. Dimitri's foolishness was not their only error, but by now they've thoroughly dissected their mistakes and it's time to move on to the Professor's other assignments. 

Dimitri spends most of the afternoon in the library reading up on some of the tactics Alliance soldiers have made use of in the past. He's joined by Linhardt and Marianne, but as neither of them make much noise, he might as well be alone. 

When he finds his eyes sliding over the pages, he seeks out the training grounds. To his surprise, Sylvain is there too, and more surprisingly, agrees to spar. Setting his strength against Sylvain's height and long limbs is an energizing challenge, and Dimitri loses himself in it for several bouts, only interrupted when the evening bells ring out from the cathedral, signaling the beginning of their feast. 

“Phew, I need a break,” Sylvain says, wiping away sweat. He's not as winded as he pretends to be, but Dimitri doesn't point that out. “Let's clean up and get over to the party before they run out of the good stuff.”

They all know by now that there are certain risks associated with holding a feast with the Golden Deer as guests of honor. For one thing, Raphael and Hilda are physically incapable of celebrating quietly. Their voices echo through the halls, carry laughter far across the grounds. 

Seteth has made very sure there is to be no drinking at Academy events, but Dimitri doubts an outside observer would be able to tell from how enthusiastic the celebrations are. They're not even halfway into the evening before half the school is engaged in raucous games that Dimitri hopes won't result in too much destruction of property. At least if Hilda breaks anything while arm-wrestling Caspar, it'll be Claude and Edelgard's problem, not his. 

Over and over again, he finds his eyes drawn to Claude. He's rarely in the same place for more than a few minutes. One moment he's by the kitchen doors cajoling Ashe into handing over spice cookies fresh out of the oven, the next he's debating Leonie on the merits of various hunting techniques, next he's delivering a platter of treats to Marianne off in the far corner of the hall. 

“Your Highness, try some of these!” Ingrid says, interrupting his thoughts by holding out a plate of little rolls overflowing with meat and cheese. Dimitri isn't especially hungry but he takes one anyway. The warmth is pleasant enough, even without flavor. 

The rest of the rolls vanish before he's done, no surprise given who's making them. There's a small crowd gathered by the kitchen, as much to keep the cooks company as to get first pick of the feast. This time, they're disappointed when Dedue passes a plate of cakes over their heads and into Mercedes's hands. She gives him a wide, mischievous smile and takes it to Annette, who exclaims in delight and leans on her shoulder as they dig into their treasure together. 

It takes Dimitri a moment to find Felix in the crowd. Instead of his usual tactic of exchanging teasing insults with Sylvain, he's sitting with Lysithea, deep in conversation about dark magic. Sylvain, on the other hand, is busy very clearly losing a game of cards to Dorothea and Ferdinand. 

As much as he truly appreciates seeing his friends enjoy themselves, it doesn't take long for the noise to set Dimitri's head pounding. He excuses himself from the table and steps out into the cool evening air by the fishing pond. 

He's not left alone for long. “I was wondering where you'd gone,” a familiar voice says. “Not going to enjoy the party?”

“The festivities are a little overwhelming,” Dimitri confesses. What is he doing, admitting weakness to a man he faced as a rival earlier that day?

“I hear you. Even I've got limits.” Claude steps forward to join him at the railing. “But I hope you've enjoyed some of it at least? Your Lions aren't giving you a hard time about today?”

Dimitri shakes his head. “A little, but it's nothing I didn't earn.”

“I think you did well,” Claude says, then ruins it by adding, “Just not as well as me.”

“Most of them found it a good experience, despite the outcome. Except for Felix.” At Claude's glance he adds, “But I understand where he's coming from.”

“You don't sound happy about it. Childhood argument?” Goddess, could he have no secrets from Claude? Evidently his expression is enough to give it away. “You don't need to tell me.”

“I'll endeavor you could figure it out even if I didn't,” Dimitri says. Claude only need ask Felix, or read an account of that battle. Or watch Dimitri for long enough that his careful mask slips. The thought chills him. 

Claude laughs at that. “Nah, I'm not _ that _ good.”

A few moments pass in quiet, marked only by the ripples on the pond and the distant sounds of celebration from the dining hall. And then Claude says into the evening air, “It’s a little suspicious, don’t you think?”

Dimitri looks at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“These exercises. Fodlan’s at such a fragile peace. It’s a wonder they can get young people from the Empire, Alliance, and Kingdom to attend the Officers’ Academy together. You’d think they’d want to celebrate the unity or something like that. But as soon we get here, they sort us into houses based on where we come from, and then they make us fight each other. What’s that supposed to accomplish?”

“It’s... it’s only for training,” Dimitri says, but he’s beginning despite himself to see Claude’s logic. “Goddess willing, we won’t need to face each other on the battlefield anytime soon.”

“Mhm. So everyone says. But wouldn’t it be a lot better if we mixed up the houses? So people could learn techniques from other parts of the world instead of just where they were born. And not just for battle. Foster communication across borders, that kind of thing. The world would be a much better place if we stopped shutting out people who live differently than us.” 

Dimitri thinks of Almyra, of Sreng. Of Duscur. “You might be right,” he says. “But it will not be an easy task.”

“Never said it was.”

He ducks his head. “Of course.”

“Stop that,” Claude chides him.

“What?”

“Feeling bad about everything. Not everything in the world is your fault or your responsibility. You're allowed to relax and feel good sometimes.”

The words are light, almost teasing, as most things Claude says, and yet they feel like a blessing. But Dimitri cannot afford to accept it. Claude is so very perceptive. So why can't he see the corrupted soul Dimitri is so very bad at hiding?

“Anyway, this is just a very roundabout way of saying I’d much rather be your friend than your enemy.”

“That’s... reassuring,” Dimitri says, doubtfully. 

Claude snorts. “No need to be so wary. I don’t think there’s much chance of us becoming enemies in the near future.” He laces his hands behind his head and studies the sky. “It seems there’s a lot of people who don’t want me to trust you. But I want to trust you. And I don’t say that often.”

“You shouldn’t,” Dimitri says automatically. “Trust me, I mean.”

“Really?” Claude laughs. “You’re the most disgustingly honorable person I’ve ever met.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Claude howls with laughter and slings an arm over Dimitri’s shoulders, only pulling back when Dimitri tenses under the touch. “Ah, sorry. No touching then?”

“I, ah...”

“No need to explain yourself,” Claude says, and there’s something different about that smile, something warm and earnest. “But what I’m saying is, you should give yourself some credit. You’re a good person, don’t try to deny it.”

Dimitri can’t, not without revealing things he’d rather not discuss tonight. Despite himself, he shifts a little closer to Claude. 

Claude watches him. “How about this, if you insult yourself again tonight, I’ll push you into the pond.”

That's a bold claim. “I'd like to see you try.”

Claude's eyes glint. “Is that a challenge?”

“I think you'll find me a more difficult opponent than you expect,” Dimitri replies mildly. 

“That's the spirit!” Claude stretches and sighs. “Come on, let's go back. I think there was still some saghert and cream left when I came out here.”

He turns and heads back into the dining hall without waiting for a reply. Dimitri follows. They're met with cheerful greetings, proving their absence hasn't gone without notice. Claude vanishes into the crowd and a moment later reappears at Dimitri's side with a bowl of cream-drenched fruit. Dimitri takes it and watches Claude walk to Sylvain's table and seamlessly insert himself into the next round of cards.

A friend instead of a rival. Watching the students of three houses celebrate together as if they hadn't been engaged in bitter combat just that morning, Dimitri can't help but be intrigued by the idea. 

For all Claude's tricks and unpredictability, Dimitri wouldn't mind spending more time with him if it could leave him feeling so warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my Discord! https://discord.gg/4vpWaZU


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